


if only all mirrors showed you

by HollowMen (CarterReid)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Growing Old, Growing Up Together, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Post Mpreg, Reunions, Secrets, Separation, Short One Shot, Young Albus Dumbledore, Young Gellert Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarterReid/pseuds/HollowMen
Summary: Gellert, it seemed, was determined to remind Albus everyday from the front of a newspaper that there existed a world where they lived on opposing sides. And even with the pleas of the Ministry - and of his wonderfully, brilliant student Newt - he could no more lift his wand to Grindelwald than lift his wand to himself.Because Gellert, even after all this time, was still the love of his life.





	if only all mirrors showed you

**Author's Note:**

> So I am super in love with the tragic Albus/Gellert storyline (that kinda got a little skewed in CoG), so I'm playing fast and loose with canon (as always) but sticking to the duel/separation etc., and my friend, who is obsessed with this pair, gave me a challenge of a short and speedy one-shot (no more than 45 minutes of writing, editing and brainstorming *cries into tea*) about A/G having a child, and that's why Dumbledore wouldn't move against Grindelwald. This is what emerged.
> 
> Hope it's alright and not too ghastly, ha! 
> 
> Rights where they go, of course, because I don't own these amazing characters. JK does. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.  
> -R.

There are days when the crushing weight of it all overwhelms Albus; when tears prick at his eyes and  _burn_ like hot salt scratching at his corneas, and not even a good cup of tea, the warmth of the fire, the laughter of a child and Fawkes softly singing by his side can drive the lingering chill from his bones. It's on days like that when Gellert sits squarely at the front of his mind. 

On days like those, Gellert _dominates_.

Of course on most days Gellert lives and breathes in the hollowed out bone behind his eyes. After all, how can he not with the world the way it is? A constant glaring reminder of what the body Albus once held close under stars was doing. A reminder of the now blackened soul, a shadow of the glorious, golden one that Albus had loved so fiercely. Gellert, it seemed, was determined to remind Albus everyday from the front of a newspaper that there existed a world where they lived on opposing sides. And even with the pleas of the Ministry - and of his wonderfully, brilliant student Newt - he could no more lift his wand to Grindelwald than lift his wand to himself. 

Because Gellert, even after all this time, was still the love of his life. 

And that such a love lives on. Formed into flesh and blood and sinew, moulded by magic, and brought into a broken world by her broken parents. Not that Gellert knew of course. Gellert could never know that their last, violent, desperate goodbye, writhing beneath bed-sheets, had left more than just tear-stained pillows, sorrow and memory by the morning. Albus wouldn't even know until months later, too busy drowning in his own misfortunes and lamenting the life he could have had, ignoring the hateful blame from Aberforth, even though he knew he deserved it. But when he did, he knew that no matter his feelings, no matter the dangers that Gellert posed, he could never get involved. Love aside, he couldn't afford the attention that would be drawn to his little one. An innocent, much like his sister, and untouched by a man who conquered death in one stroke and offered him sacrifices in the next. No, his little one lived beyond the horror that her father wrought and only when she was old enough to defend herself, to make her own choices, would he sit her down and tell her why her eyes didn't match. 

He knew she saw him, sometimes, crying silently, head bowed as he pleaded to the universe to make Gellert stop. To throw down the Elder Wand and return to his side. She'd linger at the edge of the living room, clutching tightly at the knitted bear Aberforth had given to her on her birthday several years ago. Even he, with all his hatred towards Albus, and Gellert, couldn't deny that their daughter was the best parts of them, with none of the bad. Albus was sure, however, that his brother saw Ariana in her - and after that, he was lost. She was too much like Ariana sometimes. Too kind, too gentle, too calm to be the child of hot-headed wizards who'd both, at one point in their lives, been intent on conquest and domination. She was pure, and therefore easily corrupted.

So instead he hid. He hid from the world and from the love of his life, and he hid  _her_ too. Sometimes she fought against him, raging at why she had to be caged when all others her age, even the magical ones, were free to roam and feast their eyes on the wonder that was the magical world. Other days she refused to leave her room, wrapped in study or anger or fear, and it was those times Albus feared losing her to her father's blood. But it never happened. Instead she grew. She grew bold and brave and beautiful and every year Albus told himself she was not yet ready. Not prepared to understand fully, nor to accept, that she was not born of a witch lost in childbirth, but of a man torn open by love, and a monster with no love left. So he delayed. He delayed even when he knew she was old enough to make choices, make decisions, and he trusted her with more than he admitted to.

There are days he hated himself for his deception. There are days he wondered how he could have ever considered telling her the truth. And even after years of her being hidden amongst the students at Hogwarts, desperately convinced that not even rumour could produce the truth, he fretted, mind writhing and tearing itself to pieces that someone could  _know_. 

That Gellert could know. 

And when the blonde haired man, face a callous mask, stood before him, sneering and spewing vitriol about his weakness, about how Albus had turned his back on the Greater Good - on  _Gellert_ \- the man had stood firm and held back the blinding, burning sensation in his eyes. Because he would not cry before this man. And he would not raise a wand to him either. 

Gellert returned the favour. 

He may have ranted and insulted, but he never reached for the Elder Wand, tucked just out of sight. He never motioned to his followers that they cast curses at him instead. All in all, they were civil enemies. Albus hoped that it was a sign that Gellert still loved him too... if he ever had of course. Albus hoped he did. His weakness incarnate. His love bound in the body of man who'd burnt out his own soul. A hope that never died. That _could_ never die.

And when Gellert finally found her, he'd looked at Albus, piercing him with his gaze and said: 

"She has my eyes Albus."

A pause.

"She's not yours," he'd finally choked. 

But Gellert knew. He  _knew_. And when he pretended he didn't, Albus fell in love with him all over again. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [blood pact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741561) by [HollowMen (CarterReid)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarterReid/pseuds/HollowMen)




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